Life is Strange: Afterimage
by alchemymaster
Summary: Max and Chloe knew that they couldn't place her life over everybody else in Arcadia Bay. But what if fixing things, at least for everyone else, isn't as simple as they think? An alternate take on the Sacrifice Chloe ending based on my thoughts about some issues with how the conflict is resolved. Rated T for now, that may change later depending on how certain scenes come out.
1. Chapter 1

The Storm was raging.

Lightning flared and thunder cracked. The pounding rain had long since soaked through everything stuck beneath it: the swaying trees; the uneven ground around the lighthouse; and the two rain-soaked girls, facing each other atop the cliff amongst it all. A monstrous and unnatural vortex framed them against the sky. In that moment, however, neither of them were paying attention to it.

The taller girl spoke.

"Max… It's time." She tried to say the words with finality, but uncertainty bled into her tone. She slowly dropped her hands, which had a gentle grip on the other girl's arms, and took a step back. The shorter girl forced her downcast eyes upwards and looked at the person backing away from her.

She looked at her friend.

Her _best_ friend.

Max Caulfield choked on her words as they fought to make their way out of her chest. Tears welled in her eyes, desperately struggling to find release. In the pouring rain, they were indistinguishable from the thick droplets already streaming down her face. Max's words finally escaped her throat.

"Chloe… I'm so, so sorry." She took in a sharp breath. "I… I don't want to do this."

Chloe Price couldn't withstand the agony displayed on her friend's face and immediately moved back forward, eliminating the space between them by pulling Max tightly into her arms. She knew it would only make what still had to come next that much harder, but fuck it all: she couldn't stop herself from wanting to shield her friend - no - from wanting to shield _Max_ from the pain. Tears of her own welled up as she struggled to find the right words. Again, Chloe tried to put some finality into her voice, taking comfort in Max's warmth between her arms against the icy, relentless rain.

She wasn't much more successful than the last time.

"I know, Max. But we have to." Chloe slowly pulled out of the embrace as she said the words. They were meant for herself as much as they were for Max, perhaps even more. "We have to save everybody, okay?" Sudden anger jabbed at Chloe, and she continued, "And you'll make those _fuckers_ pay for what they did to Rachel." Chloe paused, and Max just held her gaze for a moment, unsure of how to respond to that. Hearing Chloe say Rachel's name like that pressed on a wellspring of conflicting emotions that Max couldn't even begin to unpack in that moment, overwhelmed as she already was.

The moment hung as Max felt stuck, and Chloe eventually went on. "Being together this week… It was the best farewell gift I could have hoped for."

The word struck Max with the full weight of what was about to happen. _Farewell_. She thought she had already felt the full impact of the situation, but that single word made the pit in her stomach swell and grow heavier still. Then, Chloe continued with her voice small and filled with raw emotion.

"You're my hero, Max."

And with those words, in that exact moment, something crystallized in Max. She shifted her gaze directly into Chloe's eyes, and something sparked. It ignited a fire, which had been smoldering underneath the surface for so long, and, for just that moment, everything dropped away. There was only the sense of something pulling her forward, slowly at first but with increasing intensity. As Chloe didn't back away, didn't flinch, Max's hands raised to the sides her face, finding wet skin and wet hair. Lightning flashed.

Their lips collided, and nothing had ever felt more natural. Chloe's hand resting on her lower back, the mixture of sweetness and bitterness on her breath, and a deep sense of comfort. Each of them tried to savor the moment, gathering emotional strength for what was to come.

It was Chloe who broke the kiss, taking a step back. She spoke all that she needed to, and nothing more. The previous moment had already said most of it.

"I'll always love you… Now, get out of here, please! Do it before I freak." Chloe kept moving back, resisting the temptation to draw things out more and risk either of them losing their nerve to do what needed to be done.

Chloe couldn't help but add, "And Max Caulfield? Don't you forget about me."

Max wanted to say so much. She wanted that moment to continue, to rewind and just stay there, no matter the consequences. She wanted Chloe to know how much she cared, how much she loved her too. The fire threatened to consume her thoughts, which were scattered in all directions. Amidst the chaos, Max knew that she had to act now, or the moment would pass and she would be weak.

So, Max said the only word she could muster: "Never."

With her body acting separately from her muddled mind, Max looked down at the rain-soaked image between her fingers and slowly turned around. She focused on the deep blue of the butterfly in the photo, and the image started to flicker wildly.

Max felt a familiar bleeding of her vision, and then nothing at all.

* * *

 **Click.**

 _Whirr._

Max's arms were suddenly heavy with the familiar weight of her camera. The quiet noise of a spinning fan became audible as the mechanical noise of the camera printing faded.

Max's vision caught up to the rest of her senses just as the blue butterfly launched itself from the rim of the empty bucket in front of her. The sense of Deja Vu sparked by the image jerked Max into the present - or rather the past? - and a quiet panic rose in her chest. The freshly captured picture in her hand slipped through nervous fingers.

 _No, not yet. I'm not ready. I know this is what I - what_ _ **we**_ _\- have to do, but -_

But Time would not wait for Max, not anymore.

The dim thud of the bathroom door being shoved against caused Max to unconsciously shuffle back behind the farthest stall. And then it started to happen again, just like the first time, but now for the last.

"It's cool, Nathan. Don't stress, you're okay, bro… just count to three." He took in a few sharp, shallow breaths. "Don't be scared. You own this school... If I wanted, I could blow it up." He let out a nervous, manic laugh. "You're the boss."

Nathan's rambling was interrupted by a louder thud than the last, and another voice cut through the air before the door was even shut behind it.

The voice felt like a cut to Max, at least.

"I hope you checked the perimeter, as my Step-ass would say?" Stall doors creaked open, one by one. Apparently satisfied, Chloe added, "Now, let's talk _bidness_."

The rest came, just as it had the first time. Just like it always would, without Max's intervention. But Max was just a passenger now, and had to wait it out.

 _This is what we decided. This is what she wanted. This is what's… right?_

 _ **Fuck**_ _that, this is not right. It's just the least shitty outcome for the most people, but I don't know if I can -_

Max was pulled out of her thoughts and into reality by the rapidly approaching ending.

Nathan raised his voice, threatening, "You don't know who the fuck I am, or who you're messing around with!"

Chloe's voice quivered. "Where'd you get that? What are you doing? Come on, put that thing down!"

 _No, not yet, not yet. I'm not ready for this!_

Nathan was full-on screaming now. "Don't EVER tell me what to do. I'm so SICK of people trying to control me!" "

 _I don't know if I can go through with this, I just -_

The panic was rising in Chloe's voice. "You're going to get in hella more trouble for this than drugs."

"Nobody would ever even miss your punk ass, would they?"

 _I would! I love her!_

The feeling crystallized just like before, and Max lost her resolve.

 _I can't do this, I_ _ **love**_ _her._

"Get that gun away from me, psycho!"

Max was suddenly on her feet, driven by reaction and not by thought. She was around the corner -

But she was too late.

A deafening blast overpowered all her senses. Max extended her arm, but some small, resigned fragment of her kept the rest in check. She reached out, but she didn't pull on the temporal thread, supple between her fingers. Instead, she looked at the broken form curled up on the floor across the room, across the widest distance Max had ever felt.

She sunk back down to her knees, shattered by the image of Chloe like that. Chloe, all alone, bleeding out on a fucking _bathroom floor_ , thinking nobody really cared about her.

Max was aware that she was sobbing, but she could hardly feel it. Some part of her thought that she should still be hidden out of sight, but Max couldn't care. Nathan was frantically pacing, too panicked to notice the sunken form in the back of the room.

A small voice told Max that it wasn't too late. All she had to do was tug at those familiar threads, and all of this could be averted again. Whether it was more due to the numbness from the shock or a stronger resolve than she thought she had, Max didn't pull on the strands of time.

Soon, the decision was out of her hands as Max's senses bled into red and faded.

Her fingers could no longer pull on the strands.

Her fingers no longer existed.

* * *

 _ **Chloe leaning against the bathroom door, Nathan curled up on the ground clutching at his chest.**_

 _ **The image burns away.**_

 _ **David low to the ground, knee digging fiercely into Nathan's back. A limp form and a pool of red obscured behind them.**_

* * *

 _ **Nathan headbutting Warren, blood already spurting from his bruised nose.**_

 _ **The image burns away.**_

 _ **Nathan sitting at a dimly lit interrogation table, arms chained together in front of him.**_

* * *

 _ **Max, awestruck, taking a photo of Chloe dancing on her bed. A light haze lingers in the sunlight filtering through the blinds.**_

 _ **The image burns away.**_

 _ **Jefferson surrounded by uniformed men, being roughly guided out of the main doors of Blackwell. Max and Kate watching, stoic.**_

* * *

 _ **Max and Chloe balancing on train tracks, bathed in an afternoon glow, hands gingerly linked together.**_

 _ **The image burns away.**_

 _ **Max sitting across from Joyce and David at their home. Max and Joyce's hands stretched out across the table; David with eyes closed, his head held up in his palm.**_

* * *

 _ **Chloe splashing Max, lit from below. There is a depth to their smiles.**_

 _ **The image burns away.**_

 _ **Max sitting alone on her couch, clutching Captain to her chest.**_

* * *

 _ **Max and Chloe in bed, smiling for a morning selfie.**_

 _ **The image burns away.**_

 _ **Max and Joyce at the Two Whales. Joyce holding a box, filled with mementos.**_

* * *

 _ **Max embracing Chloe from behind, a board full of clues obscured at the edge of the image.**_

 _ **The image burns away.**_

 _ **Max looking through her photos, alone, surrounded by them on her floor.**_

* * *

 _ **Max and Chloe embracing, eyes locked, soaked by the pouring rain.**_

 _ **The image burns away.**_

 _ **Max standing alone on a clifftop, framed against the sky, dwarfed by the towering lighthouse.**_

* * *

Just as suddenly as before, Max was reconnected to her senses. Her arms hung at her sides, with no camera to weigh them down. Just the tight grip of drenched clothing. Rain was pouring, echoing against the bay and the deep puddles around her. Max became aware that she was staring down at her feet.

It seemed appropriate.

 _Just like that, it's all gone. Everything we did, everything we wanted to do. It's all gone._

 _ **She's**_ _gone._

That feeling hung for a moment, or perhaps it hung for an eternity.

 _Why the hell did it have to be this way? We were finally back together, and it was so_ _**right**_ _._

 _How is this supposed to be fair? Is it supposed to balance some messed up cosmic scales, putting things back the way they were "destined to be" or -_

The thought was cut off by an icy feeling. A slow realization that had been creeping up, though Max's shock at her loss had been too great for it to register.

Max was cold. More than that, Max was soaking wet. A violent crash of thunder pulled Max completely out of her reverie. She looked up, and everything was all wrong.

The horrific Storm swirled with malice and spite, ready to crash into the shore and demolish Arcadia Bay.

Max and Chloe had been _wrong_. The storm was still coming, seemingly undiminished.

"Chloe!" Max shouted, turning around.

But, of course, she wasn't there. Max stood alone on top of a cliff, more powerless and more alone than ever before.

The Storm was about to destroy Arcadia Bay.

And Chloe Price was dead. For absolutely nothing.

* * *

 **AN: Welcome to my take on the ending of Life is Strange. As many players were, I was not very content with the endings as presented. I feel like it is a cop out to believe that going back to let Chloe die somehow averts the Storm, even if Max using her powers is the true cause. Max still uses her powers to rewrite back to the original state or to jump to a timeline where she didn't intervene (depending on which theory you subscribe to on that point). Additionally, if the Storm is just a manifestation of "Chloe is destined to die", I can't accept that. For a game all about choice and the consequences of your action to end with the message that "some things are just destined to be some way" does not sit well with me, though I could see the point.**

 **In any case, I have the next few chapters written and ready for editing. I have a general outline, so rest assured that this is set up to reach a conclusion. I only ask that you take the time to leave a review, detailed or brief. I specifically would love feedback on whether the ending scene either feels too rushed or if it feels unreasonable how long it takes Max to realize what is going on. I'm not fully satisfied with it, but I'm constrained by the mechanics of Max's powers. I want time for Max to grieve before we see that the Storm is still there, but I have to put Max back at the corresponding time and place that she left (minus the few minutes of experiencing it again) for consistency's sake.**

 **I'll try to be more brief next time, but I wanted to provide all of that context for anybody who is interested. Thanks for reading, and I look forward to exploring what comes next!**

 **P.S. - If anybody has tips on how to keep FF from taking out some paragraph breaks, I'd appreciate it. I ended up using all of those horizontal lines because it wouldn't keep an extra space between each section, and I just wanted to visually divide them rather than narrate about them. They always seemed to be meant for the player, not an actual experience that Max has coming out of a photo jump, so I didn't want to talk like Max was seeing the images herself.**


	2. Chapter 2

The storm eventually subsided into a quiet drizzle, its fury expended on the pitiable town in the distance. Max felt equally spent, if she felt anything at all. Faint streaks of heavy tears on her cheeks were barely distinguishable from the rain that had long-since drenched both Max and the world around her. It seemed to have soaked Max to her core: seeping deep into her skin, through everything inside, and into her heart.

She was waterlogged, senses and emotions blurred within the murky depths of loss.

A limp hand slid from its place on her thigh, tapping the wooden bench with a muted thump. Max was absently reminded that it was the same bench where, just the Monday before, she had opened up about her powers to... Chloe.

The memory was a violent spark, reigniting the kindling of her unspent pain. The drowned feeling abated, replaced by a sear of grief and anger.

 _Chloe... I'm so, so sorry. Why was I so stupid! How did I think this would undo anything, or that it would stop the storm?_

 _It's not like the universe or whatever is stupid! If using my powers in the first place caused the storm, how does using them to prevent myself from using them count as not using them? I can hardly even call it a technicality..._

A frustrated sob arrested Max's breathing, interrupting her thoughts for a moment.

It didn't last long.

 _If the universe_ _ **really**_ _thought Chloe was supposed to die, why would I even get these powers? Why would I let myself believe that, even if Chloe believed it herself?_

Max's tears slowed, her thoughts becoming softer.

 _ **How**_ _could I go along with that? Chloe was so scared. I wonder if, somewhere in the back of her mind, she wanted me to say_ _ **no**_ _?_

Max paused. She was still crying, but the pain had slowed from a flood to a drip feed.

 _I wanted to say no. To turn back and tell her, "No, Chloe, you're my hero." I should have_ _ **ripped**_ _that picture in half. It shouldn't have been an option. And now I know that it wasn't really one anyway..._

Her tears spent, Max was empty with despair.

 _Now I don't have any options. I dropped the_ _ **fucking**_ _butterfly photo when I went back! How could I make such a stupid mistake? It should have been my lifeline, my backup, but now? It's nothing._

 _My journal isn't any better. Of course all of my photos from this week are gone: I erased it! Everything!_

 _Ugh… How could I be so stupid?_

Her anger partially spent, Max felt incredibly drained. She was just so, so tired. And now, she didn't have Chloe to help her push through it and keep going.

She silently realized she never would.

Her eyes were suddenly drawn to the cliff face in front of her.

Max rose from the bench. She shuffled forward.

Her eyes peered down over the edge, as it slowly opened up before her.

Before Max reached the precipice, a thought struck her, and she stopped.

 _This is exactly how I got here: not being careful enough and thinking things all the way through._

 _I've got to - got to fucking_ _ **think**_ _about this. Maybe I'm missing something. Maybe there's still a chance._

 _Maybe Chloe doesn't have to stay dead._

Max took a shaky, shuddering breath and sat down right where she was near the ledge. The bench was soaked anyway, and she bitterly mused that maybe the hazard would help force her to think.

Max thought through the twisting chain of events that had put her in this spot. Starting from the Dark Room, she tried to plot her course across realities and timelines, to see what was still true and what wasn't. Things had gotten mixed up near the end.

She remembered winning the Everyday Heroes Contest and thinking everything was fixed.

She remembered undoing that choice, and accidentally putting herself back in the Dark Room.

She remembered being rescued by David, after more than a few botched attempts.

She remembered fighting through the storm, helping who she could, and finally getting the photo taken at the party from Warren.

She remembered warning Chloe on the night of the party and their happy reunion on the beach after that plan worked.

She remembered her nightmare.

She remembered reaching the lighthouse, and she wanted to stop. She pushed through.

She remembered the bathroom, dropping the photo for no good reason.

She remembered Nathan, and she remembered Chloe.

She remembered Chloe's death.

She remembered her senses blurring, and then there was nothing more for her to remember.

Max was emotionally numb, subconsciously defending herself from the pain pouring out from the memories. But she kept pushing through it, trying to find the detail that mattered. There had to be one. She couldn't accept anything else.

And then suddenly it was obvious.

Max had been distracted by being placed back on the cliff. It felt like she was right back in the storm where she had been, merely minutes of difference to her perception. The only real difference was a distinct lack of Chloe Price.

But this wasn't the same reality at all. Everything in Max's memory, other than events in the most recent jump back, had never happened. Max had been vaguely aware of that fact because of how awful it made her feel for Chloe. Not only had she died, she died feeling alone and abandoned by everyone in her life. Her dad. Her mom.

And Max, who showed back up just in time to watch her get shot. Practically mocking her.

That guilt amplified the pain of losing Chloe. And, though Max still acutely felt that pain shooting through her chest, its implications planted a tiny seed of hope.

Max's journal wasn't an option anymore; she couldn't fix things during the week.

The butterfly photo wasn't an option either; she couldn't fix the problem at its source.

So she would just have to go back further, as obvious as it seemed. Max didn't know when, and she didn't know where, but she knew there had to be a silver bullet.

She had an entire arsenal of them hanging on the wall of her room at Blackwell.

 _I don't want to get my hopes up, but... there is a chance. A chance that I can still fix this._

 _I won't let myself miss it by being careless. I have to be stronger than that, for myself and for Chloe._

Max stood, fully in control of her actions. She burned with a sudden blaze of willpower.

Hope is strange like that.

Max turned away from the precipice. The rain had nearly stopped. She took a deep breath and started for the familiar path down from the lighthouse.

 _Chloe... I will fix this. We were so wrong, but I can still make things right. I have to._

 _I need my partner in crime._

* * *

 **AN: So, we've got the ball rolling now! Apologies for the late update after promising to be quick. Editing took longer than planned: something I had made a note to fact check turned up a detail I had misremembered, so I needed to edit a good amount of the internal dialogue in this chapter. It has definitely made things better though; the original version had Max take a little too long to realize some implications of how changing things back affected her options going forward, and I thought it was a little unconvincing. Max is a smart cookie! Most of the time, anyway.**

 **I'll need to do some similar work on what I've already written going forward, so editing that will take a bit longer as well. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter and this small peek behind the curtain. Until next time!**


	3. Chapter 3

[Received: Friday, 9 PM]

[K: Are you okay?]

[K: How did we not know this was coming?]

[K: Please just say anything. I'm freaking out cooped up here in this hospital.]

[K: What did we do to deserve this?]

[Received: Saturday, 8 AM]

[K: Max? Please say something]

Max stared sullenly at the dim, reflective screen in her hand. She had taken a break... somewhere in town. It was sobering to see how unrecognizable it had become, even compared to Max's time during the beginning of the storm a number of realities back.

There was a dense, growing list of texts, which Max had mostly ignored so far. It was especially difficult to shut out her parents, but she knew they wouldn't leave her alone once she responded. They were probably already on the verge of making a panicked drive to Arcadia Bay, and Max couldn't stand to give up any time in her search for a way out of this reality. If they showed up, that would make things much more difficult, not to mention real. Max could still treat this as a kind of Twilight Zone experience. The longer she was there, the less that helped.

Max had set their calls to auto-ignore and tried not to think about it too much.

The messages currently staring up at Max were different though. Kate. Poor Kate Marsh, stuck alone in the hospital during that fucked up storm. Max wanted to focus only on the hope of finding a way out of this reality, but a pragmatic piece of her couldn't just ignore Kate. If, for some reason, Max couldn't fix this, she wouldn't make the same mistake with Kate twice. She didn't want to think about it, knowing that she was only keeping herself together by considering her grief temporary. Nonetheless, she wouldn't take chances with Kate.

She had almost failed her once already.

Max began typing.

[M: Kate, I'm okay! I was at the lighthouse and got lucky. Though that feels wrong to say right now...]

Sending the message, Max looked up from the screen and decided to keep walking. She didn't want to stay there for long; it was too quiet, basically lifeless. She was struggling to keep her impatience in check anyway. Her phone buzzed.

[K: Max! Oh thank God you're okay!]

[K: I mean that feels a little wrong to say right now to me too]

[K: But! I'm so glad! To hear from you! Exclamations!]

[K: Where are you now?]

[K: Are you safe?]

Kate Marsh. Always looking out for others. Max's heart stung again, thinking of how little Kate deserved what had happened to her. It only made Max more confident in her decision to respond to Kate, if nobody else. It was kind of nice for Max too, if she was honest with herself.

It was not a great time to be alone with her thoughts.

[M: I'm trying to walk back to school. Hoping it's still standing]

[M: I'm really worried about the lack of people I've found so far]

[K: Me too. I've only heard back from Stella, Dana, Courtney, and Victoria so far. I'm praying for dead phones]

Max stopped. Victoria. After her own experiences, Max had a hard time holding a grudge against the girl anymore. But Kate looking out for her? Already? Max was struck by her goodness once again.

[M: That's still good to hear though. At least 4x as good]

[M: Anyway I need to pick up the pace. Keep in touch and I will too]

[K: Alright, I'm glad you're okay Max. Be careful.]

[M: I'm glad you're okay too Kate. Seriously.]

As an afterthought, Max added:

[M: And I will.]

* * *

Max was nearly at the top of the twisting drive leading to Blackwell Academy. She'd had to climb over more than a few fallen trees to get there. It was no wonder she'd found no sign of emergency responders in town: they were probably having a hell of a time getting there.

Anxiety suddenly blossomed in Max's chest. Walking through town had been one thing. She didn't know many people she might have found there, and she could pretend that they were all bunkered down somewhere safe or had gotten out in time.

Max knew it was a lie, but it was a believable enough lie for the time being.

Now, she had to confront the question head-on: what was right around this bend? Maybe worse, what wasn't?

The answer was both simple and cliché: there was only one way to find out.

The first thing Max could make out over the path's crest was the courtyard in front of the main building. It had seen much better days. There were branches and flyers scattered all around. Some of the picnic tables had definitely been knocked around, and the giant posters of Jefferson's work were almost all knocked over, shattered glass strewn beneath. Max's brow furrowed at that detail. Good riddance. Some posters even seemed entirely unaccounted for, not that Max counted.

There were many other minor signs of the storm and still nobody in sight. However, Max could a distinctly major detail, now nearly at the top of the path. She had a grave sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, the kind specifically reserved for a shattered hope.

Blackwell was _gone_.

Not completely gone, per se. Max wasn't in _The Wizard of Oz_ , where a building is pulled off the ground in one complete piece and dropped somewhere else. Much of the main building was gone though, more structural components remaining than anything else.

Blackwell was a literal skeleton of itself, surrounded by the broken bits of its body: a corpse left to rot after a violent storm.

 _No, no, no, no. It can't be gone. The butterfly photo could've still been in there! And my pictures in the dorm! I-I need those to save Chloe, to get back to her, to, to-_

Max's thoughts jumbled on top of each other and disappeared in a thick fog of panic. Her mind raced forward, fearing that her anguish had just become permanent. She saw imagined flashes of Joyce, Warren, and Frank, flesh disfigured by the gas explosion she wasn't there to prevent at the Two Whales. She imagined the slow drip feed of confirmed fatalities as the broken structures were picked apart. She imagined two new coffins laid by an old gravesite. Father, mother, and daughter together again at last.

All dead.

Max was startled by her own raspy breathing. At some point she had crouched low to the ground in an anxious fit of crying and struggling to breathe. She could feel herself ready to break, but some part of her was still distanced from it. Like a melancholy observer, sympathetic to the pain of the wretch huddled on the ground but still standing many steps back. The creeping likelihood that this reality was permanent - that this was **real** \- was rapidly closing that divide.

Then, a voice pierced the fog.

"Max?!"

The surprise tugged Max slightly out of the panic she was being sucked into, distracted from the tempest swirling in her own head. She looked up, trying to make out the speaker in the distance through blurry eyes.

Victoria Chase was walking quickly towards Max, and it looked to like she wore a slight, incredulous smile.

Unfortunately, that smile slowly faded as Victoria approached. Max was a total wreck even without the crying, still damp from a night in the pouring rain. Victoria couldn't help but notice.

"Jesus, Caulfield," Victoria sighed. "You look like sh-" she visibly caught herself, restraining the impulse. "Not good. I would ask you what the hell was wrong, but..." and Victoria simply shrugged, gesturing to nowhere in particular. Max opened her mouth to reply, but it just hung there, uncooperative.

Victoria did her best to fill in the gap.

"Where were you, anyway?" She paused. Nothing. "Not to add insult to injury, but I'm kind of getting the wet dog vibe, even from over here." Victoria lacked tact, but a slight softness in her voice helped her not seem malicious, like it was just a poor attempt to lighten the mood. Max didn't want to fight. She didn't have it in her anyway. Thinking back to the previous night, desperate to escape the present, Max found her voice. It came out quiet and weak.

"I was at the lighthouse with..." Max almost said 'Chloe', but some part of her mind was cognizant enough to prevent the impossible detail, as far as Victoria knew. For her, it had been days since the bathroom. Max couldn't hide a deep sigh, disgusted by her own pragmatism.

"Well, nobody. Not by the time _it_ started," Max finished in a hiss. It might have seemed like too personal a reaction, but Max didn't care about that. Her anger was too hot and her emotions too exhausted to bother hiding it. One measure of caution, followed by another of recklessness.

 _A good summary of myself._ Max sneered, internally.

"Wow," Victoria mumbled. "Well, that explains your... state, anyway. I wouldn't have guessed that would be out of the way enough, but," Victoria looked unsure of whether or not to continue. After a long pause, she quietly did. "I'm glad it was, though."

Almost in a whisper, she added, "I'm glad you're okay, Max."

The moment was surprising enough to bring Max back out of herself. Victoria Chase, extending goodwill and sympathy? Without someone else even doing the heavy lifting first? Max was unsure whether her own biases or new circumstances were more at fault for the surprise, but Max was taken aback either way. Max really _looked_ at Victoria for the first time since she showed up.

Victoria was staring slightly down and away from Max, but there was openness in her posture, real worry and caring. Maybe even a hint of implicit remorse. Here was a girl whose world had just gone absolutely crazy in under a week, without even the slightest inkling of why to help make sense of it. She was probably scared, lonely, and even angry at herself. She had failed to help her friend, even if that person was Nathan Prescott. Max's thoughts drifted back to Kate and how furious she had been at herself for almost letting her down. How much worse must Victoria feel, with what had happened?

Max remembered that Chloe was dead at that very moment, and she realized that she knew all too well.

Thoughts and emotions swirling in a complicated tangle, Max's body moved by itself. She closed the distance between them and pulled Victoria into a gentle, tentative hug.

The two girls began quietly crying. In that moment, they were just two girls who had an immensely unfair burden of sadness thrust on them, trying their best to keep from being crushed. Before that burden, this connection would never have happened. A small piece of Victoria was screaming internally in embarrassment and shame, but it was much quieter than the roaring need for comfort from somewhere, from someone.

"I fucked up so bad, Max," Victoria struggled to say between hitched breaths. "I've been nothing but a bitch to everyone, and for what? So I could impress a fucking sadistic, _murdering_ creep? I couldn't even help my only real friend, and I knew, fucking _knew_ , he was in trouble. Knew he needed help and wasn't getting it. It was all mixed up, and I couldn't see it. I see it now, but it doesn't fucking matter! And then the world decides to fuck things up more, just _wipe Arcadia Bay out_ , no warning? Just, fuck. _Fuck!_ " Victoria whimpered. "Fuck."

After a few more sobs, Victoria whispered, "I feel like I deserved it, like I was supposed to die last night."

Victoria's anguish washed over Max, and in some way helped her gain a hold over her own. There was a person right here, with more depth and compassion that Max would have ever suspected, that needed help. Needed someone to be strong. Needed someone to understand her pain.

She needed to know someone shared it, just like Max now realized she had.

"Victoria," Max managed to say, getting her own tears under control. Her voice was raspy from crying. "A week ago, I would have said nobody deserves to die. We both know why I don't think I can say that anymore," Max said with a sting of venom. She took a deep breath. " _You_ don't. You've been mean to people that didn't deserve it, but we all contributed to that environment. Except Kate. And Kate forgave, so you need to forgive yourself."

"Ugh, Kate..." Victoria whispered, full of regret and admiration.

"I know. She's pretty incredible. She's made me want to try to be more like that. And, Nathan," Max paused. She was still very conflicted about Nathan Prescott. She knew he was a victim of Jefferson in his own way, but it was almost impossible for Max to see it that way. Max really did want to be like Kate, but Nathan was the last domino that fell to end Chloe's life. He was literally the trigger.

But, he had also tried to warn Max about Jefferson, tried to help them in the end. Well, one of them.

Max tried to focus on that.

"I know how much it hurts to let down a friend. I almost wasn't there enough for Kate, and I _really_ wasn't there for," Max struggled with the Name. Saying it made it real. It made her truly face the fact that she might not be able to _fix_ it this time. She took a deep, shaky breath. The tears were back.

"Chloe," Max let out in a whisper. The image of Chloe, limp and curled on the cold floor, burned in Max's mind, and her grief poured out.

"I-I wasn't there to save her. Even though I _was_ there. I just hid, until it was too late. I finally stepped out just in time to see her get fucking _shot_. And she had to see that I was there, had been the whole time, and did _nothing_." At some point, Victoria had broken their embrace and taken a step back. What little color her face had was drained away.

"Y-you knew Chloe Price?" Victoria asked in a dazed hush. Max's sobs grew heavier and more urgent.

"W-we hadn't spoken in _years_. I grew up in Arcadia, and she was my - my _best friend_. I had to move five years ago, right when Chloe lost her dad. She was broken and devastated, and I felt so guilty. So, so guilty that I didn't know how to reach out and talk to her." Max caught her breath a bit, and hers tears slowed. Her voice was full of bitterness and regret. "So I just didn't. I didn't talk to her once in all of those years."

The bitterness turned to wistfulness. "But then I managed to get into Blackwell for photography, and I knew deep down that the biggest reason I wanted to go here was to come back to Chloe. I had all of these _stupid_ plans about how I was going to finally make everything up to her. But I was scared, and I just kept giving myself excuses once I got here. I needed to settle in, I needed to make new friends first, I needed to start off the school year right. I was always going to reach out, eventually. But, now..." Max trailed off.

She felt so empty. She didn't even know why she had needed to say all of that to Victoria. It had just suddenly come rushing out, and she couldn't stop it.

Victoria looked visibly wounded. She was shaking a little bit. "How the fuck could you have been sympathizing with me about _Nathan_ , Max?" Victoria's eyes were wide, hands against her temples. "He - he killed your fucking friend. And I didn't stop him." Victoria sunk into a crouch. "I didn't stop Nathan from killing your friend!" Victoria roared, suddenly angry and dripping with self-hatred. "And I've been awful to you ever since we met! How can _you_ be consoling _me_?!" Victoria shot back up. "God, I was right. I was so. _Fucking._ _Right!_ " Victoria's voice was suddenly quiet again, cut off by renewed tears. "That storm should have killed me, and saved everyone else the pain."

Something Victoria said had lit a fuse in Max. It had slowly burned throughout Victoria's outburst. She was furious at the whole universe, and all of the little butterfly effects that had gotten them to this point.

The gunpowder ignited.

"No, Victoria. That's bullshit." Victoria looked stunned. "And you know what else? It's _giving up_ ," Max hissed. "Of course I want to hate Nathan, and I want to hate you too! It would be so easy, and it would make me feel so much better right now! You get to be the villain, I get to be the victim, and then I get to move on and call it a 'senseless tragedy'," Max sneered. Victoria's eyes were wide open with shock and hurt. Max took her wildly gesticulating hands and brought them down to Victoria's shoulders. She released a long breath that she hadn't realized she was holding.

"But that would be so self-serving, Victoria. It's all I've wanted to do, but I guess this week has given me too much time for introspection." Max let out a wistful chuckle. "I could have stopped it too, Victoria. I could have intervened in that moment, sure, but it's so much more than that. You let Nathan down for a few months, and it led to that moment. I let Chloe down for _years_ , and that's a big part of why she ended up there."

"So, yes. I blame Nathan, and you, and fucking _Jefferson_ most of all. But I have to take my share of the blame too Victoria." Max let that statement hang for a bit.

It stung.

"I know I'm rationalizing that position much more than I'm really in it right now, but I'll get there. There's no reason for me to lash out about it now. It would just lead to more pain. I don't know that I can take any more."

There was a tense silence. Victoria hadn't been looking up for some time. Max wondered if she had been too truthful and let out too much of her anger. She hadn't really planned where she was going; it just came out. The silence was starting to drag out, and, just as Max was about to drop her hands, Victoria stepped forward again. She gave Max a tentative embrace.

"Thank you, Max. Just… thank you."

Max returned the hug for a moment, and then lightly pushed Victoria back. She looked Victoria in the eye, and Max saw a sliver of doubt creep back onto her face. Max said what she had wanted to look Victoria in the eyes to say, with a slight grin and a hint of playfulness.

"For the record, I'm glad you're okay too, Victoria."

Victoria let out a muffled laugh, and Max knew she really would be okay.

* * *

 **AN: Finally got to see some other characters, and probably much more Victoria than anyone here expected! People tend to see her very one-dimensionally, but one of my favorite things about the game are the times that she breaks that stock character and you manage to actually sympathize with her (especially when the actual narrative forces you to; you know what I'm talking about).**

 **Anyway, I hope you enjoyed! Feel free to let me know what you think. More direct plot coming up next time.**


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